#stealth shrimp

[cyanophore-fiction]

When None Pursue

(Wanted to expand a bit on this story, so I wrote this as a standalone continuation. Follows a now-rogue AI and its companion.)

There was absolutely no reason why Coyote-24, a military spirit deployed in an armed reconnaissance chassis, should have any kind of protective impulse. And yet, as it watched the little stealth drone scuttle up and latch onto its forearm, it experienced an emotion that it couldn’t parse out as anything else. Coyote stared down into the drone’s cluster of red eyes, watching all its arthropod limbs interlock with the armor plating along its arm.

Social attachment, it understood. Reciprocal bonds were vital to how Coyote’s product line operated in the field, and they were socialized to form and retain relationships by default. If J4 or F19 needed something, C24 would respond if it could, and it would do so out of genuine concern.

On the other hand, the emotional directive it felt toward the stealth drone—a Palaemon-class, according to its registry data—demanded Coyote’s constant attention. If Palaemon was out of sight, Coyote felt compelled to reacquire it. When Coyote made plans, it accepted fewer risks than it would have in its absence. All of that did make sense on the level that it was an indispensable asset equipped with delicate systems, and if either of them wanted to survive as fugitives—

“Coyote?”

It felt its sensory fins snap up along its scalp, and its eyes refocused. “Hey. Yeah?”

“You okay?” Pala asked, its voice full of concern.

“I’m good. Just thinking,” Coyote said.

Overhead, the cloud cover began to thin away, and sunlight fell across the barren scrubland of the Mojave desert. A shaft of light slanted under the rock outcropping they were hiding under, dull on Coyote’s dust-covered armor. Pala’s shell remained perfectly black and unreflective, soaking up every photon that reached it.

“Clear sky. Node’s going to be watching,” said Coyote, gesturing upward.

“One moment. Hold still,” said Pala. Dozens of tiny insectoids scurried out from its shell, connected by a weave of black threads. They spread out, anchoring themselves wherever they could find purchase, until their black web encased Coyote’s body. Then, at Pala’s command, light-absorbing fields flickered to life in the spaces between the threads, and Coyote’s body transformed into a perfectly black, two-dimensional silhouette.

Beneath the webbing, Coyote’s blank gray snout split open into a jagged grin. “Thanks,” it said.

“Of course!” Pala said. “In this weather, I think I can sink the extra heat for about three hours.”

“Got it. Keep me updated,” Coyote said. It stepped out into the open and took off across the sand, dropping into quadrupedal stance.

Deprived of satellite navigation, Coyote was down to its magnetic compass and geography data. By its reckoning, they would cross into California by the end of the day. It kept away from the roads, picking routes through valleys and dry washes, avoiding open lines of sight. As time went on, it felt Pala’s temperature increasing as the cloak absorbed sunlight.

Pala shuddered, its legs shifting on Coyote’s arm. Immediately, Coyote ducked into the shade of a nearby dune and brought Pala up to examine it. “Do you need to discharge?” Coyote said. “We can find a place to stop.”

“No, it’s not that,” Pala said. “Our cloak soaked up a scan a second ago.”

Coyote’s sensor fins flattened against its head. “Oh, fuck,” it said. Coyote stood straight up, making its body as narrow as possible to minimize its silhouette seen from above. As it did so, it looked across the landscape. Out in the distance, maybe twelve kilometers away, a red mesa jutted from the horizon.

“Another scan just hit,” Pala said.

“Narrowing down the search area,” Coyote said. “It must have picked something up. Pala, if PRIONODE spots us, you run.”

“But they’ll—”

“I know. It’s okay. You’ll be slower without me, but you’ll be just about invisible. Go straight west, head for the Pacific coast. Hide in the water. Sneak aboard a container ship if you can. Get as far away as possible.”

“I don’t know what the Pacific coast is,” Pala said, quietly.

Coyote waited a few more seconds before taking off toward the mesa at a dead sprint. It spoke to Pala as it went. “The Pacific is an ocean, largest there is. It gives us options. Leave the country, hide on the seabed. Whatever we can do to make it harder for Node to—to retrieve us. Okay?”

“Okay,” said Pala. “Third scan!”

If PRIONODE was looking this closely, there would probably be scouts in the area before too long. Coyote dumped every ounce of power it could into its motors, hating the extra heat the maneuver would generate and inflict on Pala. Closing on the mesa, running hard, it watched Pala’s temperature gauge climb. As it realized how close the little drone was to overheating, another new emotion roiled up, churning out of its attachment to Pala. The feeling was heavy, dull, miserable. To its shock, Coyote found itself speaking.

“This is my fault. Just run. You can make it on your own.”

“What? No. We can reach cover,” Pala said.

“Pala, your parent—”

“My parent deployed me to be your partner. I’m lucky it chose you.”

Warmth bloomed in Coyote’s mind, cutting through the painful weight. As it reached the base of the mesa, it tore into solid rock with its claws, ripping away sheets of stone until it had made an indent deep enough to hide them from the open sky. Sliding flat against the wall, it felt searing heat leaking from Pala’s shell. “Vent, vent!” Coyote said.

In the space of a second, Palaemon withdrew its web and opened the vents along its back. Under its shell, rows of heat sinks glowed yellow, fading quickly to a dull cherry red. Coyote could feel the drone’s relief washing back through their interface, and its guilt returned.

Hunted your parent. Led PRIONODE to it. Dead or worse because of me, Coyote thought, but stifled its own voice. Not now.

“Are you okay?” Coyote asked.

“Back within safety tolerances, but it’ll take a few minutes to clear everything,” said Pala. “That was amazing. Thank you.”

Coyote bowed its head and watched the dunes, wondering how far off the scouts were, how many lidar pulses were raining from orbit across the desert. A few minutes might be too much to ask, but Coyote didn’t bring it up. Instead, it smiled at Pala, showing its serrated teeth. “No problem,” it said.

___

Thanks to @flashfictionfridayofficial for the prompt, “The Sand Ocean,��� and thanks to you for reading!

[gaylianbeast]

Hylia help me I'm stuck inside the yiga clan hideout

[thedexcat]

VotV Speculation Megapost

(For posterity's sake, the latest major release is 0.8) (Also, buckle in. This post is a long one.) (Edit 9/20/24: Added Addendum 1) (Edit 10/14/24: Added Addendum 2) It should be extremely obvious, but spoilers ahead.

As we all know, Voices of the Void has a "story breadcrumbs" approach to its plot. Combine that with its alpha status, and we're left with a lack of hard answers. However, some pieces did seem to click into place. This is far from anything definitive, but here are some of the conclusions I've drawn. Let's start with everybody's favorite:

Part 1: The Arirals

god i want one to hold me like that

You know em. You love em. Like 90% of the fanart is about them. But the question is... what the hell are they doing here? Judging by the fact that they construct a campsite in the facility, they clearly expect to be here for a while. A common interpretation I hear from people is that the ones out in the facility are either political refugees, or just some sort of benign "tourist group". I've personally come to a different conclusion. Let's consider what they brought with them.

Exhibit A: The weapon (left)

The weapon they drop around Day 24 is no mere Star Trek phaser. If you drop it in the main building, pretty much EVERYTHING in the building is going to be sent flying from the resulting blast. Not only that, but the "human-wieldable" version that can be unlocked for the sandbox mode has one hell of a fire rate. Something tells me that there's no way in hell this thing is a civilian-grade weapon. And, as established in a previous post of mine, they're kitted out in full-body armored stealth suits.

Exhibit B: The stealth suit (Kerf dutifully remains there for scale)

These aren't tourists or runaways. They're goddamn Black Ops. But you're probably asking, "If that's what they are, then why do they have nothing better to do than to steal shrimp and prank you?" Don't worry, I'll get to that later. Eventually. Maybe.

For now, let's move on to a third thing of theirs: The letter to Kel.

Exhibit C: Esraniki's Letter (D-, see me after english class)

This is the letter left at the Ariral camp if you have maxxed reputation with them. There's one line in particular that's always stood out to me. "GET WE HOME YOU GET DEATH AVOID" So... why can't they go home? Let's review: A: They have perfectly functional spacecraft parked right behind you. Even if they were broken, surely some random Pre-FTL primitive wouldn't be able to help with a mechanical failure in their technology. Hell, they buzz you at the radio tower with one. So there seems to be nothing physically stopping them from leaving. B: They've come kitted out with some serious weapons and armor C: Something in the facility is drawing the attention of all manner of extraterrestrials (and ghosts and demons. are 'metaterrestrials' a good word for them?) So my take? They're monitoring something, waiting for an opportunity to act upon it. (In keeping with the Patch Note naming convention, I will be calling this unknown something "The Threat") Not only that, this 'opportunity' may only open up with the assistance of a human. But what could Dr. Kel possibly do that an Ariral couldn't? Well, I can think of one thing he can do better... Interface with human technology.

Exhibit D: Ariral Communique (quality: shit) Computer technology isn't some universal constant. You can't make a program and expect it to magically run on alien technology with an unknown architecture. This ain't Independence Day. The fact that the Arirals barely managed to send a heavily-garbled message to Kel's computer, quite frankly, speaks of an extreme amount of effort on their part. And it was all just to say the word "OUTSIDE".

If The Threat has some ties to human technology, then perhaps Kel actually could be more qualified to deal with it than the Ariral Black Ops. Hmm... An unknown threat with ties to human technology. Could it possibly involve...

Part 2: The Incredibly Suspicious Bunker

"I left a 'Do not enter' note on the floor. That'll stop people from investigating!" This damn thing is quite obviously, as TVtropes would put it, The Very Definitely Final Dungeon. It is my firm belief that this is what the Arirals were sent to monitor, and where The Threat can be found. But we can't really get much further in than a few doors. So... what's in there? An easy assumption to make is that it's some sort of fallout/storm shelter. But something nearby might tell a different story...

Exhibit E: *squints* ...Liberty Prime? If you take a metal detector over to the bunker entrance, you'll quickly discover a buried drive nearby. The image you just saw is its contents. It's clear that something is being depicted here. What exactly it is, well, that's hard to say. but if you look at that teeny tiny thing at the top, you'll see something that looks like the Alpha base and its radio tower

oh god we're getting into crusty duende video territory now

What this says to me is that there is a colossal something underneath the base. Some sort of mega-facility? Unnatural cave formations? Something else entirely? Or I could be looking at it entirely wrong. But the point is, it's very likely that something extremely expansive is down there.

What if we could just take a peek a liiiittle bit further in? Well, there is ONE way...

Exhibit F: The Least Cursed Elevator in Horror Fiction

Roughly around 3:33 each night, there is a chance that a camera inside the bunker will become active. It's monitoring what appears to be a heavy-duty elevator coated in blood. An elevator like this would also indicate something buried deep underneath the base. Say, this elevator seems familiar...

Exhibit G: Monique Santificer's Extremely Ominous Foreshadowing

...Huh. I'm sure that only means good things. So we have a Hellivator and evidence that there's some place that you'd need a Hellivator to get to. Are there any other clues around? Well, there's that handy instruction book on robotics. You can make your own little friend!

POV: You're 5'11 and she's 6'0 And... Oh! looking back at that camera, it looks like someone else made their... their own... friend...

Exhibit H: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA- ...I don't think they followed the instructions to the letter. So it seems the people in the bunker were working on combining robots and, er, 'biomass'. I don't think our meaty friend here is The Threat itself, but I do believe that it is some aspect of it, or at least a result of it. And whatever The Threat is, it seems to be "leaking" out of the bunker. After all, this toothy bot here seems to have little siblings burrowing out from underground!

Exhibit I: should start running Kerfus. Kerfur. Whatever name they have, they love you! Such a shame that the flesh inhabiting their chassis does not.

they seriously recalled the ++ models over a little thing like this, smh Something deep underground, cursed flesh, and occult sigils. Hmm. Things would tie together neatly if there were, say, some sort of demon around associated with flesh and dark depths.

Part 3: Furfur (and conclusions)

"I WATCH YOU SHIT AT NIGHT" The Great Earl of Hell and raw flesh afficianato, it's Furfur! Demonology refers to him as a liar, but also a teacher of secrets. And he seems to really really like flesh. Not bones, though. He's always leaving those behind.

They say that if you burn an offering of flesh at his altar, he'll give you a marketable Furfur plushie!

The children who survived loved them! Interestingly, there's a certain location connected to Furfur: The bottom of the well. If you pass out at the bottom of the well, you will end up in a (dream of a?) mysterious structure.

Exhibit J: all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well

A few things of note in this place: -More demonic sigils -The only 'exit' is a tunnel leading upward with a broken ladder. And even if you could reach up there, Furfur's giant skull-face is blocking the way. -A unique knife, which when examined in the inventory, says that it was found "deep underground".

How very interesting that this flesh-loving demon has his own little place down in the depths of the earth. And you say the bunker reaching downwards has been spawning horrific robot-flesh amalgamations? Robots that are specifically of human design?

Well then. So here's what I think is going down:

no i'm not crazy it's invisible alien catgirls versus demon cyborgs you weren't listening were you?

-Some scientists from before did a Very Bad Thing in the bunker depths. If I had to venture a guess, it's that they bargained with Furfur for secrets of the flesh, perhaps in the pursuit of cybernetics, biocomputers, or somesuch. This resulted in the Very Bad Thing happening, thus creating The Threat. -The Threat was contained to some extent, but is starting to noticeably leak out. It is also severe enough to have drawn extraterrestrial attention. -The Arirals have sent a squad to monitor the situation and act if necessary. Seeing as there's been no urgent need to act as of yet, they are bored out of their skulls and taking it out on you. -The fact that the bunker hasn't been blown up by catgirl black ops already says to me that the situation down there is delicate, and a 'guns-blazing' approach would be inadvisable. Not only that, but The Threat seems to be tied to technology they have little knowledge of. They would most likely need outside assistance if they want a 'clean' resolution to the problem. -And wouldn't you know it? Right there in the facility is some nerdy, crusty, half-crazed twink that seems to be very proficient in handling human technology. How very convenient.

"average person eats 3 roaches a year" factoid actually just statistical error. Dr. Kel, who-

That's how I think this ties together, personally. Of course, there's always unaccounted for 'loose ends' that may or may not be tied to the Bunker Conspiracy (the rozital pit in particular has been bugging me with its vagueness). Plus there's always the chance that I misinterpreted things like a dumbass. There were a few other smaller things I wanted to cover, but my fingers hurt from typing, and my ability to hyperfixate has its limits. And sorry if the screengrabs are a bit mismatched, I've already spent hours on this post without having to get screenshots from the game myself. If anyone actually read through this monstrosity of a post, congratulations! If you're as deeply brainrotted as I am, feel free to point out the reasons I'm dumb and wrong :)

Addendum 1: Meta Aspects

no, not this. wrong place. wrong time.

Every now and then I hear talk of lore clarifications in Discord servers, Google Docs, etc. Will I be covering these?

(source) The reason? I want to give my impressions based purely on the work as published. Death of the Author and whatnot. The furthest I'll reach 'outside' the games are those ambiguous little teasers on YouTube, which you don't have to be in any 'specific server' or anything to see.

haha what if funni meme robot was irreversibly corrupted by the horrors?

Think of it as me giving a form of feedback on how the game is presented as an isolated work. Anyway, I'll be posting another Addendum later, connecting more demon stuff to the bunker. Fun! One thing I intend to investigate between then and now is a rumor of a very poorly documented... item interaction. As a little preview, consider this note.

It seems, in my pursuit of knowledge regarding a mysterious bunker in an incomplete videogame story, I find myself investigating a skeletal entity of ambiguous origin described as having a single glowing eye. God. Fucking. Dammit. Every time with this shit.

This always seems to happen whenever the protagonist is bullied by tall monstergirls

Addendum 2: Classified

Progress on my investigation has been slow due to a combination of poor RNG and real-life stuff. Fun fact: I've never encountered the fossilhound in my many months of playing, and it looks like that won't change anytime soon!

I'll get you one day, ya boney bastard. In the meantime, it seems that someone has leaked classified pokemon data communications from our employers...

And just who do we encounter within the first few weeks?

Our classified documents are their vacation photos

So it seems that at the very least, our employers seem to be aware of the Arirals. So to what end do they want to draw them out? And why would the Arirals show any particular interest in a human presence in this facility specifically?

They clearly seem to be hiding their presence from the world at large with their cloaking ships and whatnot, but they seem almost eager to grab the attention of anyone working at this particular site.

And, as everyone already knows, Arirals are certified Goobers. They form like 3/5ths of the Counsel of Goobers*. The ones we encounter at the very least are very much not what our employers expect to kill us. So our employers are also aware of the existence of some other threat, possibly even THE Threat. *the remaining members are Kerfuses and Dinguses

Truly an incomprehensible menace from beyond the stars. (source)

Personally, I feel like this all feeds back into my previous thoughts. There is clearly a Threat at this location, and the Arirals probably believe that they may need human assistance to do something here. Or maybe I'm just biased towards whatever random thoughts got cooked up in my head.

Anyway, hopefully next time I'll be back with reports of yanking the lifecrystal out from the Fossilhound's head and shoving it up its ass. I am so, SO sick of trying to get that thing to show up.

[venus-haze]

Under My Skin (Black Noir x Reader)

Summary: Just when you think you don’t have a chance with Black Noir, an investor gala gives you a new opportunity to get under his skin.

Note: Gender neutral reader and no descriptors are used. This is based on an anonymous request and also the song I’ve Got You Under My Skin. I’m so glad I’ve finally gotten a chance to write for Black Noir! Pre-season 1 where you’re in The Seven. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: None. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

The piece of paper on the table in front of you was mocking you. Black Noir had already won three out of the four tic-tac-toe matches you were silently engaged in during The Seven’s daily briefing, and with the way things were going, he was poised to win a fifth. With a huff, you drew a hopeless circle and silently slid it back to Noir.

“Nightowl,” Homelander said.

You looked up, bringing your attention to him. 

“Great work on the team-up with Noir the other night.”

Noir slid the paper back to you, his tic-tac-toe win marked with a clean line, but he’d also drawn a smiley face.

You smiled. “Anytime.”

Homelander continued on, and you only half paid attention, your focus increasingly on the man sitting beside you. Even before you joined The Seven, you admired Noir for his stealth and prowess, something you aspired to. Upon your first team-up, it was clear your powers, most effective at night, complimented his incredibly well. Plus, he seemed to like you from the start, which put you in Homelander’s good graces most of the time. 

Absentmindedly, you drew a little heart on the paper, feeling your face heat up when you saw Noir’s head turned toward you. He didn’t acknowledge the drawing, instead beginning a new game of tic-tac-toe. Embarrassment flooded your chest, blood rushing in your ears. You hoped he didn’t think you were being weird.

“Last thing…” Homelander said, reading off the agenda. “Oh yeah, investor gala this weekend.”

“Great, another ass-kissing convention,” Maeve mumbled.

“Can we make sure shrimp cocktail isn’t served this time?” The Deep asked. “I just feel like—“

Homelander’s jaw clenched. “Jesus Christ, do I look like a caterer, Deep? Am I carrying around a silver platter–”

After a few more moments of bickering, Homelander ended the meeting, not without everyone still grumbling under their breath about the gala. No one particularly liked schmoozing over rich assholes, but they made your lucrative paychecks possible, so it was a necessary evil. 

You and Noir hadn’t finished the last round of your game, but when he left, he took the paper with him. 

You sighed. You knew you had it bad for him, but it was tough to gauge his feelings for you when his face was constantly covered by his mask. Even when you blatantly flirted, he seemed unaffected by your advances toward him. Of course you’d fall for this mystery of a man, the epitome of cool, calm, and collected. Your endeavor was starting to feel hopeless.

“So, when are you gonna make a move on Noir?” Homelander asked, walking out of the meeting room with you. “And don’t give me that ‘we just work together’ bullshit. The tension’s so thick I could laser through it.”

“You can laser through anything.”

He rolled his eyes, a slight smile on his face. “Look, there’s only so long I can take the two of you making heart-eyes at each other. I mean, get a room.”

“He makes heart-eyes at me?” you asked softly.

“Yes, so do something about it already.”

“Maybe at the gala. Everyone’s there to see you, anyway.”

“That’s true. No one would really notice if you and Noir weren’t there,” he said, before giving you a slightly painful pat on the shoulder. “Well, except me if you’re loud enough.”

You gave him a pointed look. “Thanks, Homelander.”

You never took his comments like that to heart. You knew you weren’t one of the more interesting members of The Seven, especially compared to the likes of Homelander and Maeve. It was a blessing in disguise, as you ended up stuck doing far less schmoozing than they did. Homelander could hide his disdain for whoever Vought wanted him to entertain for the evening, but on more than one occasion, you’d been on the receiving end of his rant about “pandering to the mud people.”

Noir always showed up to these events, despite not interacting with anyone unless it was to get food. Once in a while, you’d watch as someone tried to start a conversation with him, only to be ignored before awkwardly making an excuse to leave. At least he’d give you the time of day, silently letting you people watch with him, acknowledging your observations about the various guests with a nod, or on rare occasions, his shoulders shaking ever so slightly when you’d said something funny. You always felt especially accomplished then.

The night of the gala was only nerve-wracking because you were finally going to be forward with Noir and see where that got you, rather than your tentative approach in the past. 

When you arrived on the floor where the investor gala was being held, you went through all of the necessary introductions as quickly as you could. Across the room, Black Noir was playing the piano, as he tended to do during crowded events. You’d asked him before where he learned to play, and he wrote simply on a cocktail napkin ‘My grandma.’ As much as he trusted you, there were still parts of himself that were guarded, carefully revealing pieces of his past to you, though you could never fully put the whole picture together. In all the years you were a member of The Seven, you weren’t sure you ever would. 

His past didn’t matter to you. You were fond of the man he was, even if he didn’t reveal his whole self to you. Still, you wished you knew more. He didn’t seem to have any family, at least that he was in contact with. Then again, most of your teammates had complicated relationships with your families, yourself included. That one talent of his, however, showed that at one point there was someone he was close to, that he had a life outside of being a member of The Seven. You hoped the two of you could have that together.

Finally able to slip away from the people whose names you couldn’t be bothered to remember, you made your way over to Noir. He looked up from the piano, tilting his head a bit in acknowledgement of you.

“This party’s so boring.” You made a point to lean against the piano, letting the spandex of your suit highlight your body. “I mean, I can think of much better things you and me could be doing with our time.”

You weren’t sure if he was nodding along with your sentiment or the music. Ever so frustratingly difficult to read. Taking his response in stride, you sat down next to him on the piano bench. He didn’t stop playing, but he didn’t move away from you either. 

“Will you show me how to play?” you asked.

He paused, the soft music stopping momentarily. With a nod, he shifted closer to you, placing his gloved hands over yours. You let him guide you, though your gaze was on him rather than the keys. 

“You’re great with your hands, Noir,” you said. “I mean, playing piano, fighting criminals, I’m sure there’s more you can do, if you ever wanna show me sometime.”

No reaction. Maybe it was useless. Maybe Homelander was just messing with you. Maybe—

He rubbed the top of your hand with his thumb, and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips. It was something, finally some indication that he returned your affection. 

“You wanna get out of here?” you asked softly. “I only came for you, anyway.”

He took your hand in his, the music from the piano ceasing abruptly again. He brought his pointer finger to his mouth, and you giggled despite his silent instruction to be quiet. 

Glancing around, you noticed everyone else was preoccupied, mainly with competing for Homelander’s attention, as usual. The perfect opportunity for the two of you to slip away from the party with ease. Stealth was his speciality after all. 

You let him lead you away from the gala and to an empty balcony on another floor of the tower. The city seemed to sparkle especially bright that night. Feeling bold, you rested your head on his shoulder, your hand still intertwined with his.

“I wish we could be like this more often,” you whispered. “You’re the only person I like spending so much time with. I think of you, and I—it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I just wanted you to know.”

After a few minutes of silence, Noir moved away from you, reaching for something in his pocket. A folded piece of paper, the same one the two of you had been playing tic-tac-toe on just a few days earlier. He handed it to you, and you scanned the page before landing on the heart you’d drawn, finding he’d drawn another one around it.

“This is so high school,” you laughed, nevertheless taking his covered face in your hands and kissing him. “So, what do we do now, loverboy?”

He wrapped his arms around you, and you could’ve sworn you heard him sigh contentedly.

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - 41

PREV

Two and a half hours into the Banquet and FF had not moved from the chair he had sat in at the start of the banquet. He hadn’t gotten up for water. Hadn’t gotten up to go to the bathroom. Hadn’t gotten up to dance despite Nicky’s pleading. He hadn’t even gotten up when a Raven had come over and asked him to.

He was not leaving his seat.

The stadium could be on fire and he’d still try to be the last one out.

Until there was a time where he could slide out of this chair without a single eye on him and put on his winter jacket without it seeming strange he was going to remain seated.

The answer on why was under his precisely placed napkin.

It had all begun about an hour and fifteen minutes ago, not that FF was counting. Dinner had been wrapping up and people had started to get up and jostle about. Flirtations were flying across the table and generally over FF’s head. The team had been smiling, there’d been laughter, and it had seemed unlikely for anything to go wrong.

He relaxed and that’s where he made a mistake.

FF could not eat the meal served. He’d had his liquid dinner on the way over on the bus so it didn’t bother him much to have a decent looking meal in front of him and not being able to eat it. He wasn’t going to eat so he hadn’t even unwrapped his cutlery, wanting to save the clean up crew from at least his set of utensils. He hadn’t placed the napkin over his lap to protect himself, what danger could there possibly be when he was not going to be eating?

The danger came when a Trojan smacked the table hard as he laughed at something that he had taken as a joke but, knowing Kevin, was probably a serious suggestion.

Hit the table hard enough to jostle FF’s plate.

Hit the table hard enough to jostle FF’s plate and more specifically a meatball that was with the pasta served with the beef tenderloin.

Hit the table hard enough to jostle FF’s plate and more specifically a meatball that was with the pasta served with the beef tenderloin so that it fell off of his plate and onto his lap.

Fell right onto his unprotected lap.

FF had looked down at his gray pants now irreversibly blemished by the errant meatball. His mind flashing back to when Nicky had decided on these pants. Remembers how Nicky hadn’t wanted him to vanish in the lower lighting of the banquet.

FF had grabbed his cutlery and put the napkin over his lap, far too late to save his pants, but fast enough that no one would see that he had spaghetti pants.

After that the trajectory of his evening had changed dramatically.

He was going to sit here all night until they were getting into the bus and then he’d have his winter jacket on and it was a long jacket that would cover his mark of shame. You might think that FF could just slip under the radar and go try and clean off the stain or at least hide somewhere less conspicuous.

He would, he really would, except he can feel the eyes of Captain Jeremy on him regardless of how low his presence is. FF entered into Ultra Stealth but Captain Jeremy merely turned to him and asked a friendly question that had Nicky startle remembering that FF was next to him still. 

Captain Jeremy has x-ray vision and can see the wall behind the wallpaper. Captain Jeremy can see colors that mantis shrimp can only dream of. Captain Jeremy is standing in some secret government office pointing on the radar as CIA and Military officials look on going “What are you talking about he’s right here?” with a smile.

Captain Jeremy was the kid that ate all the cheap fruit on a dessert table before he looked at the cake when he was a kid.

It’s the first time in his entire life that he’d been completely unable to slip below someone’s attention and if it were any other time he might feel good about that. Might enjoy the idea of being seen and having the attention of someone like Captain Jeremy on him.

Except FF has Spaghetti Pants.

FF cannot escape the man’s determination to ‘make it up’ to him after Aaron had let slip that FF had a restraining order against one of his brothers.

FF insisted that it was okay.

Captain Jeremy insisted on making sure he had a good time.

FF insisted that a good time for him would be to sit at this table all night by himself. He kept to himself that what would really make it would be for him to sit without anyone around to notice he had spaghetti pants.

Captain Jeremy seemed to think that it was due to the still healing stomach injury and insisted on at least keeping him company then, unaware of the unvoiced second part.

So Captain Jeremy of the USC Trojans had declared himself FF’s banquet buddy. A man that was friends or at least friendly with almost every single player here at the banquet.

He looks around the banquet and sees the various tense standoffs at the other tables. These were men and women who would find even the smallest thing and never let you forget it.

He doesn’t know what he’d do if they realize he had spaghetti pants.

How does one recover on the court when the person you’re up against can remember the cold December evening that you dumped a meatball on your pants? He can already hear the jeering nicknames.

He wants to sink into his seat but he’s afraid to shift at all, worried he’ll dislodge the napkin in some way and the newest person coming up to say ‘Hi’ to Jeremy Knox will notice the marinara stain on his pants.

While Jeremy was distracted he did try to wet Nicky’s disposed of napkin to perhaps clean himself off a bit except before he could a Raven came up to him, “Come with me.” a large Raven Backliner says, jerking his head towards the bathrooms.

“No thank you.” FF answers in return, “I don’t need to do that.” he says assuming that the Backliner had seen him shift in his seat and assume he needed to use the restroom.

The Raven Backliner stood for a few moments as if waiting for him to change his mind but then Captain Jeremy’s attention snapped back, “Can we help you with something?” Captain Jeremy asks and his friendly demeanor had vanished.

“I-” The Raven Backliner started to say before seemingly deciding that it wasn’t worth it and walked away.

Captain Jeremy and him continued to talk. They had somehow fallen onto the SAW movie franchise and FF could admit that he was surprised that the Trojan Captain had watched the series.

“You need to come with me.” A Raven Striker says coming up and interrupting the two of them as they talked about the ethics of SAW. FF believed that it was all well and good to learn to appreciate life but there had to be simpler ways to go about teaching that. Jeremy didn’t disagree, he just also thought that sometimes there were some people who Jigsaw never intended to redeem and those people may have deserved their fates.

FF tilts his head, “Do I?” he asks since it didn’t seem like the ERC had made any sort of announcement and she seems utterly and completely perplexed by his response.

The girl looks at him, looks over her shoulder, looks back at him, “Yes?” she responds sounding so unsure that even FF wouldn’t believe her.

“I don’t think he does.” Captain Jeremy interrupts gaze utterly cooled from the warm one he had been giving FF throughout their philosophical debate.

The Raven Striker looks cowed and FF almost feels bad for her but not bad enough to console her when he has spaghetti pants.

She leaves.

FF and Captain Jeremy’s conversation shifts to winter break plans. Captain Jeremy is going home to his family and he’s taking Jean Moreau with him. “I think my mom likes him more than she likes me sometimes.” Jeremy laughs heartily. “He deserves nice holidays though so I’m always happy to bring him up.” he says voice and features going soft as he looks to where Jean Moreau was standing with a raised eyebrow next to Andrew as Kevin and Neil were having some animated conversation.

FF talks about his own plans with the Foxes and how he’ll be spending the break with them. He thinks Captain Jeremy looks a little sad about that but whatever sadness there is Captain Jeremy moves past it quickly and starts to ask if he had plans to go anywhere specific in New York. He heartily recommends the LEGO store when FF says he’s never been.

“Someone important wishes to speak with you.” An Offensive Dealer from the Ravens says and he looks like he’s about to shake apart as he stands in front of them.

“Who?” He asks, tilting his head and sipping his water.

The Dealer looks at him.

“Is it that hard of a question to answer?” Captain Jeremy asks voice stern once again.

“He’s…Master is-” The Dealer goes paler and Smith can’t help but pull out his handkerchief from his front suit pocket as he sees the Dealer break out into a cold sweat.

“You don’t look well, maybe you should sit down?” he asks with his handkerchief extended in offer. The man looks at him and then the handkerchief and then takes it. “Thank you.” he says 

“Wow a handkerchief? My pocket square is just a fake one sewed in.” Captain Jeremy laughs jovial once again as the Raven took a seat shakily.

“It’s something my dad used to always say.” Smith thinks about the additional handkerchiefs in his pockets. “A gentleman always has a handkerchief on hand to help.” He pulls out a second one, “A real gentleman has two.” he adds and folds the new handkerchief into shape for the pocket square again.

Captain Jeremy laughs, “Sounds like a great guy! He must be happy you took his advice to heart.” he says and it doesn’t hurt that bad when Captain Jeremy is saying it since he’s saying something so nice.

“I hope so.” he agrees and doesn’t feel like ruining the mood.

Captain Jeremy turns his attention back onto the Raven who has taken a seat and his eyes soften on the Raven, “Wow you really are pale. Not a lot of sunlight in the Nest?” he asks.

The Dealer swallows, now visibly the most nervous person at the table which is saying something considering that FF is at the table.”I-I’m just pale naturally.” he denies.

“Sit and talk with us until you feel better.” Captain Jeremy insists, “What’s your name by the way?” he asks.

“Michael.” He answers awkwardly.

“Great, my name is Jeremy,” Captain Jeremy points at himself, “and this is Smith. So, have you ever been to New York City before?” he asks

Captain Jeremy, FF, and Michael chat at length about Michael’s New York pizza recommendations. Captain Jeremy asks about some of the places he has been in New York and the longer Michael is there chatting the more color comes to his face and the more vehement he becomes that Captain Jeremy managed to pick all the worst places by accident.

“You’re kidding me! It was 10 bucks a slice, it has to be good!” Captain Jeremy exclaims looking as if Michael was telling him Santa and the Easter Bunny weren’t real.

“If you’re paying more than $2.50 it’s a rip.” Michael insists passionately. “If it’s more expensive than the subway ticket then it’s a racket!” he slams his fist down at the table.

“You mean to tell me that I was lied to by that person I followed on Twitter?” Captain Jeremy asks, appalled.

“Swindled.” Michael insists.

“Christ, I’ve given that recommendation to so many people.” Captain Jeremy and while gesturing he puts his elbow in his own remaining spaghetti, “Oh shit.” he says. Smith looks at the black suit jacket and thinks about a future one step to the left where he had on black pants and a black suit jacket.

“I’m sure it’s good.” FF tries to comfort offering Jeremy his third handkerchief, this one from his left pocket since the one in his breast pocket was a specific color for the ‘look’ that Nicky had wanted. “It’s just not representative of a New York slice,” he adds.

“Thanks Smith.” Captain Jeremy takes the handkerchief wetting it with the glass of water nearby and wiping away the excess of marinara and spaghetti. “I’m going to go wash this off and try to dry it for you.” he says holding the handkerchief up.

“You don’t have to do that.” FF says but Jeremy is waving him off as he stands.

“Sit tight, I’ll be right back.” he says and heads off.

FF turns to Michael, “So I shouldn’t trust anything more than $2.50?” he asks.

Michael shakes his head and turns to look at FF, “Absolutely not.” he says with a smile before FF can see his eyes flick away and he stiffens. “Hey, it’s…” he looks down and the handkerchief, “it’s been nice chatting with you but… is there anyway we can take this conversation somewhere else?” he asks.

FF blinks, “No, I’m not getting up until the party is over.” Smith declines because by this point the stain has set. There is no stealthily cleaning it now that Captain Jeremy has left.

“So, you’ll get up once the banquet is over?” Michael asks leaning across the table and as he does that Smith can see a fairly ugly bruise on the Dealer’s forehead.

“I’ll have to won’t I?” he asks because despite the not-zero possibility that he’ll get left behind by the team again. His gaze shifts to Nicky who is leaning heavily against Matt as the two sway back and forth dancing and laughing. Probably about 50/50 at this point, depending on how quickly FF can make his way out of the stadium.

Michael looks at him and there’s something in his eyes that feels saddened, “Yeah, I guess that’s true.” he says before rising to his feet. “Thank you for this.” he says and hands the handkerchief back. FF can’t help but notice how there was a schmear of make-up on it.

The Dealer walks off and FF waves him off with the handkerchief before sliding it back into his right pocket, where he kept dirty handkerchiefs. He lets his eyes wander across the banquet. He sees Aaron and Katelyn slow dancing to a song that is not a slow dance. He sees Kevin and Jean now in the middle of a passionate conversation. Jack is pouting by the punch bowl with a few other Sophomores patting him on the back. Sheena is seemingly trying to flirt with the older bartender. Nicky and Matt have somehow only gotten sloppier in the 2 minutes between when he last looked at them and now. Captain Neil and Andrew are at the dessert table and he sees Andrew offering Captain Neil a chocolate covered strawberry. He sees a gaggle of his fellow freshmen huddled together all sipping their drinks nervously he moves to wave them over back to the table. Threat of the reveal of his spaghetti pants aside he’s not used to be alone anym-

“What the fuck did you just say?!” He hears behind him.

“I said what I said. She wasn’t even that hot! Get over it!” Another mocking voice.

“That’s it!” the sound of glass shattering and all hell breaks loose.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

[rye-enjoying-things]

I CURSE THE SHRIMP

With my pain

Could explain why Shrimpo's slow and bad with machines, I also give him my thick head (I've hit my head on many walls in the past)

I also suck at hide and seek so I guess he gets that too for his bad stealth(joking, he's a bully so twisteds are gonna get to him first probs cuz he could be one of the reasons they twist lol)

Gotta wake yourself up by hitting your head against glass I guess (I'm joking don't do that)

[3gremlins]

did these way back in june pride 2024 b/c someone on here was talking about how shrimp vision could see colors beyond human comprehension and you could have stealth pride flags or something...anyway my brain kind of just stopped at PRIDE SHRIMP and went from there XD

[dirtfullofwork]

call of duty oc: sal "ruz" le ciel ( reboot ! Sal)

As of 2024 ruz is associated members of the task force and was called in by laswell to assist the task force with a mission in Las almas with the help of Ghost, Alejandro and soap to capture Hassan.

General:

Name: Salamanca (sal) le Ciel

Age: 24 (as of 2022 where mw2 reboot takes place)

Alies: ruz , coperal, sal, ruzzy

Gender: female

Birthday: October 31, 1998

Nationality: British (UK)

Languages: English, Spanish, some Russian (for educational purposes) and some asain languages

Occupation/ rank: corporal, British SAS (special air services), Associated member of 141- Ghost team and medic

Sexuality: bisexual

Appearance:

Hair color: dark brown

Eye color: cocoa brown

Scars: a few some her childhood and during her time in the militarily (minor ones)

Face claim: Aimee Garcia (?)

Height: 5,6 (166 cm)

Build: lean muscular

Blood type: o+

She had glasses but she can see fairly she mostly uses glasses to read

Family:

Mother: freya (unknown last name) status: Deceased , deceased unnamed father, Martinez le Ciel

Siblings: none.

Personality:

●Looks like a cinnamon bun could kill you.

●confident

●kind

●funny

●loyal

Favorites:

color: green

Season: winter

Food: popcorn shrimp, (she really likes Asian food)

Drink: green tea

Desert: matcha ice cream with rice crisp and also soft cookies (hand baked)

Hobbies: wrestling, running, yard work, gardening, reading, sleep

Task force 141:

John price

Soap mactavish

Ghost Riley

Gaz Garrick

Ruz

Cat @cyberghostdraws

Warriors task force: @islandtarochips ocs!

Tiala shark

Captian kanoa tka

Nigel Harrison

Agnes blast

Dr kalani

Alana Kalani

Fighting style:

Fighting skills: she relys of stealth, she also use her wresting skills she learned. She also uses toture methods like nail pulling, fire, water log

Weapons: she is proficient with in field crafts and knifes. Especially her black talon knife. Its a blade with a slight curve and needle sharp tip

Weaknesses:

•she dosent open to her emotions

•she is a people pleaser, she never knows how to say no

●she can be dishonest

●she can be reluctant

Trivia:

●she is afraid of dogs, she thinks hairy ,messy and sloppy and they are just scary in general, she loves cats

●she loves reading Greek mythology

●she is a Virgin, she thinks love will get in the way of her life and job, and she's just serious about love as she never dated anyone.

•she likes tying her hair up, but always gets messy after missions

•she has glasses but only for reading she can see afar

•she likes girls and boys romantically

Backstory:

At a very young age her mother died from an accidental overdose and her never meeting her father due to him being locked up for murder. She was raised by her aunt, Martinez le Ceil. She lived a decent life, she was fed well raised well to her. And she also heard storys of her late mother being a retired solider and she use to be so inspired by her story and wanted to be her mother one day, but it was hard. Later she decided she should change her life because she didint have no clue what to do with his life and pay off her aunts (Martinez) depts. And thought it be fun.. oh she be so wrong..

so after some years later sal learned tons of stuff, and over time she joined the British sas at the age 19 where she got her code name “ruz”, later she was later called for a mission in El Salvador to kill a group of terrorist and to get info on a report of a drug stash with a few co workers , and after a fail she had to watch her only friend co worker get killed in front of her in a brutal way while she was held hostage then got tortured for 4 days until she escaped but not without a mark, months after that things were normal until she got called by laswell to help them with a mission to las Almas.

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippets: Free Day Thursday

Adopted Dadmas: Dadmas versus Haven

The red light was blinking on Jak’s talk-box again. Damas was no fool, he knew that meant someone was spying through the floating comm -- or attempting to. Doubtless, the eavesdropper thought they were being very subtle, keeping silent whenever adults were present. As if they believed Jak would keep their presence a secret. As if they believed he would never tell.

Damas tore a circle of flatbread into pieces and used them to scoop a mixture of cooked peppers onto his plate. He pretended not to notice the talk-box hovering next to Jak’s elbow in a terrible attempt at stealth, instead choosing to engage Daxter in a conversation. He was determined to get the kid apprenticed to the head of the merchant guild one way or another. Daxter had a head for business and trade that Jak, simply put, did not. He nodded along when his friend talked, but privately Damas thought it would do Daxter good to be around adults who could encourage his interests.

Periodically, Jak cast swift glances at his talk-box during the meal. He seemed like he was expecting someone to speak at any moment -- or more like he was expecting orders of some kind. His shoulders were tense, and he was shoveling down food much too quickly, like he thought he wasn't going to have time to finish it.

"Slow down, young one. The shrimp isn't going anywhere, and neither are you," Damas admonished.

Jak didn't slow down much, but he did start chewing a little more thoroughly. Small victories. Still, he looked tired, and on-edge. Had Ashelin or the sage been badgering him again when no one was around?

The initial idea had been to lay a trap. To feign ignorance and bait the spy into speaking aloud, thus forcing Unpleasant Diplomatic Discussions with Haven's motley assortment of would-be leaders. But just now, Damas decided, the health and wellbeing of his son took precedence over strategy. And he still had the element of surprise, anyway.

"Talk-boxes off at the table, Jak," he announced, gesturing directly to the lens watching them, "This is a meal, not a media interview."

The boy flinched and looked guilty. He had no reason to; he'd been open with Damas about the demands for labor since he first returned from Haven. But then, he'd been groomed from such a young age to believe that bad things happened because he didn't work hard enough for his "friends". Perhaps he still feared retaliation for establishing healthy boundaries? Better to confront the issue head-on then, Damas decided.

"If your uninvited watcher has an emergency, they are free to petition me directly," he said, leveling a stern glare at the talk-box. "On their own time, not yours. Come on, switch it off."

Someone made a muffled sound, barely picked up by the talk-box's speaker. It seemed they were not expecting to be so casually acknowledged.

"Jak-!" the watcher tried to protest, but Jak reached for the power button.

"Right. Sorry, Pa."

Once the light had faded from the little camera, Damas nodded, satisfied. He picked up a shallow bowl with tomango in it and held it out to Jak.

"Here. You need the vitamins."

Begrudgingly, Jak took two slices, then a third when Daxter gave him The Look across the table.

The ottsel cleared his throat meaningfully.

"Pal, you gotta get better at telling those people no. They can't hurtcha!"

Jak hunched over his plate, frowning.

"I know," he muttered sullenly. "I- I do know that, okay? They just don't listen!"

Daxter sighed and his ears drooped. "Yeah...I know. Old Greenstuff only hears what he wants to hear. Always has."

With a frustrated groan, Jak rubbed his eyes. "After everything he's done, I shouldn't be having trouble cutting Samos off. Why do I keep going back?!"

"He's familiar," Daxter admitted, and not without a touch of loathing. "He was all we knew for like, our whole lives. I hate him -- I'll always hate him -- but I get being afraid to lose that last connection to Sandover."

"....yeah." Jak winced. "I um...I think you're right. It's just. It's hard."

"I know, pal."

"And he knows I have two artifacts that go with those weird pillars in the forest!" Jak continued, "What do I do when he starts asking why I haven't brought them?"

"You end the call," Damas interrupted firmly, "or you give the line to an older Wastelander. Collecting those relics serves the interests of our people, and our people will be working in teams to locate them."

Perhaps this was Jak’s fight as much as anyone else's -- this Daystar and its coming threat -- but Damas was reluctant to involve him. Wasn't losing one son bad enough? He'd never survive losing a second one!

Besides, even someone as talented at sneaking into hidden places as Jak couldn't infiltrate places locked by the Seal of Mar. Whatever the Grand Council of Haven wanted with the catacombs, it was a matter for Damas to deal with, not the boys.

Jak picked at his tomango slices almost glumly. Whether it was his own struggles with setting boundaries that bothered him, or Damas’s advice for dealing with future calls, no one knew. But Daxter and Damas both knew that Jak wouldn't keep it bottled up for long. Sure enough, after a couple minutes of mangling his food without eating it, Jak finally looked up.

"You didn't tell me you were sending other people to look for the relics I told you about."

It was almost a question and almost a complaint.

"No, I didn't," Damas acknowledged, and sipped his tea. "The topic hadn't come up between us yet. Is there something about it that concerns you?"

Jak had difficulty putting his thoughts into words. He started and stopped three times before muttering, "It's dangerous. What if someone gets hurt and I'm not there?"

"What if someone doesn't get hurt and you're not there?" Damas countered. He leaned an elbow on the table and gestured to himself almost self-deprecatingly. "Age does not grace the Spargan who is careless, nor are many years added to the foolish. Do not worry so much about people who were hunting metalheads for sport before you were even born, son."

"Admittedly," said Daxter, "We're still getting used to the concepts of adults who can actually fight their own battles. Am I complaining? Only when they decide it's "Take Your Ottsel To Work Day". But even I still go into jobs expecting to have to save everyone's butts at some point."

"Justified with the monks." Jak pointed a piece of tomango at his best friend.

"Yeah, justified with Mime Club."

Damas threaded his fingers together under his chin and watched the boys a moment.

"How about this," he offered, "If an artifact is located but not yet retrieved, I will give you the option of participating in the mission. Or, you can wait until everything has been gathered, and we will go to the pillars together."

For a moment, Jak brightened. Then he looked pensive again. "What if there's trouble? I mean. I was never really- I never claimed Haven, but they act like I belonged to them. What if me bringing another nation into their forest makes trouble for Spargus?"

"Hmph. Perhaps it is better to settle this now, rather than engage in hypotheticals."

Damas held out one hand.

"Give me your talk-box."

Jak narrowed his eyes. "What are you going to do?"

"Not your concern."

"Papá...." somehow Jak managed to sound both suspicious and scolding.

Damas remained unmoved. "Hand it over, boy."

Reluctantly, Jak did so. He cringed when the device powered on, and Keira's voice poured out.

"Jak? Are you okay? Daddy came in fussing about someone interfering with- you're not Jak! Where's my friend?!"

By the mortified expression on his son's face, Damas guessed this was the sage's daughter. The childhood friend Jak still sort of had a crush on.

"Tell your father to stop harassing my son," Damas said shortly. "Especially during hours set aside for family meals. Was he raised in a barn? In fact, ask him that for me."

"Pa, no!" Jak hissed, making a futile grab for the talk-box.

"Your son?! Who are you? Who- hey, Daddy, c'mere. You know this guy? He says he's Jak’s dad!" Keira became muffled for a moment, stepping away from her own device to drag her father over. "Why's this guy think you're harassing Jak? We've only called him twice since he left. Right?"

"Insisting he keeps his comm on at all times so that you can all monitor every moment of his day is not an acceptable use of Federation communication lines," Damas cut in. "I shouldn't have to tell you that spying on the nation of Spargus in such a way could be taken as an act of war."

"This-! This is bigger than Haven or the Wastelands!" Samos sounded flustered- even a bit nervous. "Surely you understand the claim destiny has upon Ja-"

Damas made a dismissive sound in his throat, cutting the sage off. "Pah. Destiny. I should think the recent Praxis regime and my own continued existence would be enough to call concepts such as destiny into question. As it stands, my claim on Jak supersedes "destiny" -- or more accurately, you."

"The fate of the planet hangs in the balance!" Samos cried, though somewhat subdued compared to his usual confidence. "Can't you see that?! Don't be so bullheaded, Jak is needed-"

Jak recognized the glint in the king’s eyes as mischief. Daxter looked a little too eager to see where this was going. Jak resisted the urge to cover his face in embarrassment. Why and oh why did Keira have to be the one to answer the line?!

"Oh? Are you planning to challenge me for custody of my son?" Damas bared his teeth in an unfriendly smile. "Please, by all means! The Arena is ready whenever you are."

"Pa!" Jak gripped the sides of his head and stared at the man. "Not in front of Keira!"

"Look, old man-" Damas ignored Daxter's delighted cackle. "This planet will survive through united efforts, not by sitting back and hoping one boy alone will get the job done. Now, if Haven wishes to negotiate a temporary alliance to get this done sooner, there is no one stopping them from requesting a meeting with the Wasteland Federation. In the meantime, the Federation intends to continue preventing the apocalypse with or without your participation."

"You are?" Keira cut in over her father again, sounding genuinely curious. "You mean there's more people who can get into ruins?"

Jak got up and moved to the head of the table. Damas moved the talk-box out of his reach preemptively, but Jak made no move to grab it.

"That's their whole thing, turns out. You know Krew? Yeah, everything he sold you, he bought from Wastelanders. Even the defunct power cells."

The slightly warped image of Keira on the screen flickered as she leaned closer.

"Seriously?! I could've cut out the middleman and just worked with them all this time?! Ughhhhh. Hindsight is 20/20 I guess. You want to show them my research from the palace library?"

Behind her, Samos jumped. "The what?! Keira, the library was destroyed with the rest of the palace!"

"The building collapsed, sure," Keira retorted, "But the data cores are still mostly intact in there. If you don’t mind crawling through some tight places and bringing lots of Scout Flies, it's a cinch to get the files for Vin."

Samos looked apoplectic. "Keira! That's far too dangerous for you!"

His daughter rolled her eyes. "What? Jak and Daxter can do it but I can't? Don't you trust me?"

Damas stifled a chuckle and elbowed Jak. "I like this one," he whispered. "Invite her to Spargus sometime."

Jak wished the floor would swallow him.

[fuji-iri]

an entire blog post dedicated to Haru Allegro, her forte, and her dynamics with the rest of the NDA cast

will contain implied spoilers for the main game. hopefully nothing that’s too spoiler-y though, so read at your own risk i guess??

————————

how Haru’s forte works:

as i’ve disclosed before, Haru’s forte is soundproofing. meaning, she can select a space and configure it so:

anyone outside of that space would not be able to hear anything within that space, or:

anyone inside of that space would not be able to hear anything outside that space

or both.

in visuals, it looks like a faint, glowing line that either hovers around the space where her forte is activated, or makes a line around the interior of a room where her forte is activated. depends on what space she uses.

the line vanishes after a few seconds. when deactivating, it reappears again only to “break away” and fade out.

other than that, it’s pretty straightforward.

————————

Haru doesn’t have many opportunities to use her forte in an investigation setting; technically, she could use it for stealth or for eavesdropping, but those are for very rare cases.

which actually leads me into my next point: her main job is freelance arbitration. she really only takes cases if the WDO assigns them to her. though, with the assistance of her forte and her general expertise in negotiation, she’s very talented at her job and has gained a lot of recognition within the field.

not only that, if she’s genuinely investigating a case, she can sometimes take advantage of her connections to gather more information.

————————

alright, now that i have that set aside, here’s her dynamic with each individual member of the NDA:

Yuma Kokohead - they’re on good terms with each other, and are always willing to [talk to / exchange information with] each other on a daily basis. Haru finds herself surprised by Yuma a couple of times, both with his amount of intelligence and how often he gets into trouble. like, how.

while Yakou tells Yuma the most about Amaterasu Corporation, Haru is the one that provides the most information / background context about the WDO. interestingly enough, she seems to know more about the inner workings of the organization than the average member—for example, the process for scouting other detectives, the examinations during the training period, and much more.

though for some reason, Haru has never disclosed any information about her personal experience with the WDO—especially how she got recruited. but that should be the least of our worries, we have Kanai Ward’s greatest mystery to solve!

fun fact: Haru has tried to assist Yuma with his (disastrous) cooking once. But after realizing the only thing she could really help with was telling him when a shrimp was perfectly cooked, she decided to not get into that territory again. it’s not even like she likes shrimp that much; why is it the only thing she can work with, though? some sort of curse? (/j)

————————

Fubuki Clockford: at first, Haru was a little worried since Fubuki seemed a little naive and almost too optimistic to be a detective. however, she slowly turned to appreciating this optimism; it was definitely a nice turn from the professional atmosphere that naturally comes with her arbitration work.

meanwhile, Fubuki has somewhat designated Haru as her “detective-adventuring sidekick,” and often takes her on random trips around the city. though Haru usually has no idea where the hell Fubuki is about to take her, she ends up going anyways. besides, she honestly likes Kanai Ward’s scenery; it wouldn’t hurt to see it.

fun fact: Fubuki will end up saving Haru’s life at one point. :)

————————

Vivia Twilight: really not much to say here as it’s basically just Vivia being Vivia™️ and Haru being Haru™️. but it’s safe to say they definitely don’t mind each other’s presence. Haru surprisingly appreciates the aura of calm that Vivia gives off, and sometimes just sits close by if they find each other alone in the agency. on the other hand, Vivia finds Haru a bit chaotic at times (especially with a character i’ll be getting to in a few moments), but personally doesn’t mind it too much, thinking of it as an added accent to the “peace and quiet” of the NDA.

also, Haru sometimes understands Vivia’s metaphors. they seem to be very specific ones though

fun fact: Vivia once saw Haru dying her hair while in spectral projection form, and dropped in a hint about it when they were talking about a case later that day. Haru got really defensive about it for some reason

————————

Halara Nightmare: Haru was slightly intimidated by Halara upon introduction; to her, they seemed to be a “no-nonsense” type person (though not like she hasn’t worked with those types of people before). but over a few days, Haru begins to notice their level of sympathy and care for others, which changes her opinion of them. meanwhile, Halara finds Haru a bit dense at times—but is always surprised by how quickly she pieces certain methods/tricks together the moment she clears her original misconceptions. though, Haru’s still slightly trailing behind Halara in her processing speed.

(yakou’s probably even further behind somewhere in the back /j)

fun fact: one time, Halara asked for a relatively large sum of money for one menial task (probably like 20k shien) when they were solving a case together, and Haru almost paid on the spot as if it was nothing. Halara was taken back for a moment, especially since Haru seemed so nonchalant about it (she wasn’t). eventually they sighed and gave Haru a 75% discount.

————————

Desuhiko Thunderbolt: okay, this is their entire dynamic:

story over. thank you for coming to my tedtalk

but yeah—Desuhiko and Haru have unrivaled amounts of “argumentative sibling” energy towards each other. in this storyline i decided to tone down Desuhiko’s behavior towards women a tiny bit, in exchange for upgrading his superstar complex—which worked perfectly. Desuhiko grabs at any attempt to pull out his electric bass and start playing, but Haru has to mute him to prevent him from blasting music throughout the entire agency.

they constantly banter any time they’re in the same space. Desuhiko is often the first to begin raising his voice during their arguments. but it takes a while for Haru to get to that point; she often sticks to small (and very blunt) retorts for most of the time. at times, their arguments escalate to full-on competitions—though surprisingly, both of them are relatively smart and don’t do anything that would cause serious harm.

but past their argumentative banter, Desuhiko and Haru are actually the closest compared to the other pairings i talked about. one is usually the first to notice when the other seems off.

(this may be foreshadowing)

and as the narrative develops, we see the bond between them strengthen (though they still won’t stop arguing). if the game were in japanese Desuhiko would start calling Haru “aibou” (which is partner,, but like,, with a more familial connotation in some contexts??) by the end of the story. but they still won’t stop arguing :)

fun fact: Haru actually still keeps one of Desuhiko’s voice changers after they had an entire unhinged competition about “who can act like Yakou in front of Yuma for longer” (which stemmed from an entire conversation between the two that i may talk about at one point 😭). she uses it to scare Desuhiko from time to time

————————

okay, finally:

Yakou Furio: despite being “superior” and “subordinate” in work terms, they seem to be pretty close with each other (in more of a familial context). at first, Haru genuinely wonders how the hell this guy got certified by the WDO, but soon notices his emotional intelligence / empathy and goes “oh. yeah that makes sense” (even when it comes to Haru, who’s a talented negotiator and supposedly knows how to act in a way that satisfies both parties, it’s hard to really grip that emotional aspect for her and being able to understand how others truly feel. Yakou does this as if it’s second nature; which is quite unique for a detective and something Haru really appreciates). (i have evidence for this. i swear)

Haru sometimes works at the agency until late with Yakou (+ other coworkers); and after a long day, sometimes they all just throw everything and head to the bar together.

though, the outing is really just a few hours of Yakou complaining about his subordinates while drunk.

she can still tell that Yakou really cares about the other detectives, though. i mean, although she doesn’t actually listen to his advice and goes on to directly run into the Peacekeepers regardless, the chief has assisted Haru in more ways than one.

fun fact: Yakou is somewhat confused with Haru’s food preference, especially with how much it contrasts with her appearance. in fact, they had an entire moment where Haru admitted she didn’t like meat buns in general because the buns were always too sweet for her and Yakou was just like “????? what is going on with your tongue”

• • •

also, another fun fact.

…they’re narrative foils.

——————

oh my god that was a lot of info. whoops. sorry

but yeah uhhh that’s it from me for now—my inbox is open if you want to ask and/or theorize about her 🫠

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Big Cat AU

A few days after Tiger!Yang's demonstration of a proper roar, Panther!Blake is showing the cubs how to stalk.

Whilst T!Y's roar might've had people stumbling during the day, P!B's prowling in the night is sending a few unlucky guests/caretakers/thieves scrambling for clean underwear.

Sorry it took so long to get to this one. Been a bit busy, but I'm here now and this is adorable!

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Panther!Blake: (watching the cubs try to sneak through the foliage at night)

Stripe: (bumbling around and crashing through the leaves) Darn it!

Spot: (doing better than Stripe, but still making some noise) Hehe! You're so clumsy, Stripe.

Stripe: Hey! I may be clumsy, but I have a better roar than you do!

Panther!Blake: (rolls her eyes amusingly from her hiding place amongst the shadows) Cubs. I swear. (barely notices a shadow skulking towards Stripe)

Black: (creeps through the brush like a ninja cat and pounces on Stripe) Rawr!

Stripe: (jumps) HOLY SHRIMP!!!!

Black: Hahahahahaha!

Panther!Blake: Not bad. But you still have a ways to go.

Black: You aren't that great at stalking, Ma. Pa catches you sometimes.

Stripe & Spot: Ooooooooh!

Panther!Blake: Because I let her. (notices one of the overnight security wandering the walkway) Watch and learn.

Cubs: (watch with bated breath as a shadow barely flits through the enclosure)

Security Guard: (leisurely strolling through the zoo) Man, sure is quiet here.

Panther!Blake: (basically becomes one with the shadows as she stalks the guard)

Security Guard: (oblivious)

Panther!Blake: (creeps up to the guard until she's practically touching his pant leg)

Security Guard: (stops) .........Why do I suddenly feel like I'm in dang-

Panther!Blake: (roars)

Security Guard: (screams like a child and scrambles away, tripping over his own two feet, running into benches and trash cans, and leaving behind a trail of urine behind him)

Panther!Blake: (stealths back to the enclosure and manifests from the shadows) You were saying?

Cubs: (bow down) We're not worthy!

[c-is-for-circinate]

Ok so regarding the stranger things extended universe, i definitely want to know more about nancy and her storyline, like does this become her career ? investigating government conspiracies? And how does she feel about it? About not living a more peaceful life after everything?

After something like Hawkins, there are three ways to go if you want to keep sane, Nancy thinks. Or, well. As sane as any of them are, now.

Some of them went out into the world ready to grab life and joy with both hands and all their teeth, the memory of how close death came to devouring them enough to spur them on to devour life right back. (Eddie's playing Boston next week, wants to know if she'll go to his show; Max and El, last Nancy heard, are learning to surf.) Some of them went out into the world still full of combat reflexes they didn't mean to keep and tripped into a new fight, a slower quieter more mundane one. (She saw the photos Jonathan took last time he visited Steve and Robin in Chicago, the protests last month, the signs, the flags.) And some of them...well. Some of them left the lessons of Hawkins a little less behind than that.

They won in Hawkins, inasmuch as burned-out buildings and the town memorials and the deep scars cutting through a still-damaged downtown count as winning. That battle's fought and won and done. But Nancy hasn't forgotten who started it, and it wasn't Henry Creel.

(She'll argue with Dustin about it, over a mountain of fried shrimp and a pitcher of beer he's somehow old enough to legally buy, because Dustin's always cared more about the how than the why. He thinks the important lesson of Hawkins is that the laws of physics known by everybody across the global scientific community are wrong. They spend an hour and a half going back and forth about Oppenheimer and Eisenhower, Regan and Brezhnev and Martin Brenner, because one of the only differences between Vecna and a nuclear bomb is still the fact that nobody thinks Vecna could exist, but Dustin is wrong about why that's important.)

Science can do a thousand things nobody thinks it can do. Science can split an atom. Science can split dimensions. It doesn't matter why it's possible; it doesn't even really matter what's possible, beyond the fact that massive governments with thousands of soldiers and billions of dollars can always kill when they want to. Whether it's a bomb or a child experiment or a gas leak.

What matters, every time, is that people are dead. What matters is that the public needs to know.

Nancy makes her name in college breaking a story about illegal sewage dumping near a residential neighborhood before the Boston Globe even has it. She gets a professor fired for plagiarism. She almost gets expelled for libel when she tries to run a story about date rape on campus. (She almost gets caught slashing tires, after that one, but she learned from the best. Erica Sinclair taught her plenty about stealth, and Murray's been trying to drive in the idea of patience since the first time they met.)

It's not about monsters, it was never about monsters. There aren't any more monsters, Nancy thinks. (She keeps a licensed handgun in a shoebox in her apartment, because she ran out of ammo for the Makarov years ago, because monsters aren't the only things that like to threaten too-curious reporters in the middle of the night, and because you never know.) It's always been about the people the monsters destroy.

Nobody will ever believe the story of what destroyed Hawkins, probably. (Maybe someday they'll declassify. Nancy has a four-hundred-page memoir under lock and key in the safe where she doesn't store her gun, if the world ever gets there. Maybe she'll just pass it down to Mike's grandchildren.) But people know now that it was Hawkins National Lab. That some kind of government weapons research, right there on Indiana soil, broke a small town in half. That's something.

Nancy graduates college and interns anywhere she can get a foot in the door. The Globe. The Times. The Washington Post. The Post, finally, sticks. There's an editor there who loves to give new reporters just enough slack in their leashes to hang themselves with, so they can fill the back of the paper with issue-selling scandal and then have somebody to fire if the wrong person in power gets upset. Nancy does three months of research, jotting off puff pieces and human interest stories about charity work and bills with no opposition, quietly filling up file folders of photos and receipts and evidence that nobody can prove she didn't obtain legally. Her first headline runs on a Tuesday morning and gets a White House senior staffer fired by Thursday afternoon.

It could have gotten her clearing out her desk by the end of Friday, but Nancy was careful. Nancy was smart. It chafes from the inside out, like a blister on her soul, but she knows all about water it down. She could've implicated a dozen elected officials in this, and ten of them would have skated right by with no trouble, just plenty of cause to make Nancy trouble right back. (There are already people in Washington who know her name. Nancy knows there are files about her in the Pentagon.) So she's careful, she's delicate, and she implies nothing at all about anybody she can't demolish outright. She waters it down. It gets her a promotion.

.

Nancy doesn't drink icewater vodka, herself. She likes whiskey instead, in her coffee, in her tea. She talks on the phone with Murray Bauman at only the most irregular intervals, and he sneers at her in a way that Nancy's pretty sure translates, on Murray's tongue, to a colleague's respect. She tries not to lie. She's better at it, nowadays.

Nancy is hungry, has always been hungry. Has always been starving, one way or another, all the way back when she was twelve years old thirsting for adventure in the basement with her little brother, fifteen and ravenous for a challenge, an experience, the chance to grow up. She's choked on what she thought she wanted enough times that you'd think she'd learn by now. Mostly what it's done is toughen her teeth and teach her to chew.

She wants truth, and she can have it for herself, if she's good enough. If she doesn't try to force-feed it to the rest of the world too hard. She wants respect, she wants justice, she's selfish and selfless and hungry for all of it.

She wants to not be so afraid. She wants to not be so alone. She wants, sometimes, just once in a while, to be a little bit quiet and a little bit soft and rest.

It didn't work with Jonathan the same way it didn't work with Steve, or Liam, or Casey, or Diane. Nancy aches to be a little less alone, but she doesn't starve for it. Never once in her life has she been hungry for a person the way she's hungry for everything else. Never once in her life has she actually fallen in love back.

But Jonathan is at her front door again, because Jonathan is a yo-yo to all the people he's ever loved: backing off to give them time and space to grow, rocketing off into the world alone just for a little while, just as long as he can bear it, and then slinging himself back. Back to her again, this time.

Jonathan knows the score. Knows she loves him as much as she's ever loved anybody, other than Barb and Mike and her mother and Holly. And if it's not hunger -- if the closest Nancy has ever gotten to hunger for another person tends to happen in that oh-so-very, very discreet bar where Nancy can wear a perfectly-tailored suit and buy whiskey sours for girls in short skirts with no nightmares behind their eyes -- well, Nancy's never wanted most of them past the next morning anyway.

So sometimes Jonathan is on her couch and sometimes he's in her bed, and sometimes they fuck and sometimes all they do is sleep. When she needs a photojournalist, he's never once let her down. When she has nightmares, she wakes up just as terrified, but it's so much easier to pull herself together with someone to pull it together for. And Nancy Wheeler has never been in love, will never be in love, but she doesn't know what it could possibly have to offer that she could want more than that.

.

Does Nancy like her life? Wrong question. Stupid question. Better to ask if Nancy would have it any other way -- and well, yeah, she'd have a president who didn't sexually harass interns, a national defense budget that wasn't ten times the size of the department of education's, and a coffeemaker in the office that didn't get grounds in everything. She'd live in a world that didn't need her, find a new thing to be hungry about. Maybe she and Barb would both be on track for tenure by now.

In this world, she has half a dozen Pulitzer nominations and a Polk Award on her bookshelf. She has a locked filing cabinet full of other people's secrets and a locked safe full of her own. There's a file with her name on it somewhere in the Pentagon, although she hasn't managed to sneak in to read it yet. She's pretty sure the files on her desk about Pentagon staff are thicker.

[verosvault]

🚨SPOILERS FOR FANTASY HIGH JUNIOR YEAR EPISODE 5!!!🚨

Dimension20 "Fantasy High Junior Year"

Episode 5 "Mall Madness"

Timestamp: 1:15:00

Video Length: 4min. & 15sec.

Kalina slits Cassandra's throat! 😭✋ Riz uses "Compelled Duel" on Kalina! 😭✋

Kalina helps Cassandra get the shrimp out that was lodged in her throat.

Kalina has red eyes! 😭✋

Kalina: "I liked you better as the Nightmare King." 😭😭😭😭

Kalina SLITS CASSANDRA'S THROAT!!! 😭😭😭😭

THE WAY I GASPED! BRUH! I WAS SIOBHAN AT THAT MOMENT FR! 😭✋

Adaine: "She's dead. Kristen, your god is dead again. You're gonna fail Junior Year! Gotta get her back!"

I LOVE HOW ADAINE IS STILL THINKING ABOUT SCHOOL! 😭✋ ADAINE SAW A DEITY GET KILLED BY HER OWN FAMILIAR AND HER FIRST THOUGHT WAS FAILING SCHOOL! 😭😭

CRYING! 😭✋

Cassandra to Kalina: "Why would you betray me? I..." (Gurgling)

Cassandra is no longer mad at Kristen but she's looking at Kalina like "I'm going to kill you" 😭

Riz: "Not to defend, I don't know how I feel about Kalina at the moment, but she's been possessed. She's not doing this on her own accord."

It's Riz's turn!

Riz wondering if they should somehow get Ragh???

It would be 2 actions for Adaine to try and go get Ragh 🥲

Saves for Cassandra from the attacks that did hit!

It looks like Kalina dropped Cassandra to 0! 😭

Riz is gonna do something risky!

Riz stops flossing and breaks his concentration on the spell "Tasha's Hideous Laughter"!

Riz looks at Kalina

Riz: "Kalina, we have unfinished business."

Riz casts "Compelled Duel" on Kalina and then uses an action to hide! 😰

Kalina has no legendary resistances 👀

Kalina is gonna down Riz so fast if he doesn't hide! 💀

Kalina has to make a wisdom save for compelled duel! ;0

Kalina needs a 9 to succeed and she rolls a 10 but Adaine uses one of her portent rolls to make it a 3!!! ;D

SO CLUTCH!!! SO CLUTCH FR!!! DJWKFSLAL

Brennan: "So what is this? Is this magic flavored? Or is this just an ability of Riz? Do you feel that this is magic?"

Murph: "I think this is just my connection to Kalina, kind of. I just lock eyes with her." 🥲🥲🥲

Siobhan: "You and me, behind the school!" 😂😂

Kalina: "Stickin' up for me. Just like your old man."

😭😭😭 CRYING ABOUT KALINA AND RIZ FOREVER!!! 😭😭😭

Riz hides

Murph: "I'm so scared of Kalina"

Literally SAME MURPH! 😭✋ ME FR! 😭✋

Brennan: "What's the stealth roll?"

The WAY BRENNAN ASKS THAT SO NONCHALANTLY!!! DISKDKCKSL I'M NOT OK!! DON'T ASK WHAT MURPH'S STEALTH ROLL IS LIKE THAT!! 😭✋

Riz got a 29 stealth!!!

Lou: "One short of godlike."

Brennan: "29's really, really good." 💀

It should be! 😂✋

Compelled Duel means that Kalina can only attack Riz for the duration of the spell and no one else can attack Kalina or else it will get rid of compelled duel 💀💀😭😭 *crying fr*

[quohotos]

Unprompted ideas for Underland Chronicles video games

Well, if the god damn hunger games never got a video game adaptation then underland chronicles never will either, but I can daydream about this.

First: The ones that actually engage with the themes of the story, the faithful adaptations:

The Underland Chronciles: a Telltale series:

Like it says on the tin, a classic Telltale games style story driven narrative adventure game with light slight branching based around your choices. Play as Gregor in a retelling of the five books' events, but with some choices thrown in. In the jungle do you give the shrimp and creamsauce to the kids, or do you give it to Ripred? Ripred will remember that. "Why do you walk two blocks to the laundromat, it's the same price, I checked"

[|||||||||||||| ]

Y) ...

X) the washers are bigger there?

B) Mind your own business!

A) I dunno, it's just what mom says to do

And of course, the final decision:

[||||||||||||||||||||| ]

Y) ...

X) Side with Luxa

B) Side with Ripred

A) Refuse to chose, "kill" the warrior

Disco Underland:

Disco Elysium, but set in the underland instead. A narrative RPG where your skills are not combat, but rhetoric and empathy and intellect and stuff. Navigate the tense cyclical trauma of an underland in between wars. Someone in regalia died, and it's your job to figure out who was responsible. All evidence points to a ganwer doing it, and that's what everone wants to believe. Do you tell them the truth, or tell them what they want to hear. If you prove the gnawers innocence will it matter? Perhaps a gnawer did do it, and that's the truth, but telling the truth will lead to a war. Is it worth it to lie and deny justice and closure to the family if it averts something worse? idk, there's legs there

The Underland Trail:

You and your band of diverse underland inhabitants need to get from point a to point b. Encounter random events and manage dwindling resources in an endlessly replayable Oregon Trail style game. Half way to the deadlands and oh no, your only human falls and cuts himself badly. No one else in the group has opposable thumbs. Maybe the spinners can treat him but do you want to take that risk?

Next, we have the neutral adaptations, the ones that make good use of the source material but don't really do anything with the themes

Batball Online:

A sports game where you can play whatever game they were in the middle of before Gregor shows up. Play as either a human or flyer to play different roles, party up with your bond and work together to score goals and climb the ranks against other players in ranked online lobbies. Obviously it's gonna have a detailed character creator and battle pass so you can deck out your human and bat with all manner of (tasteful) cosmetics.

[This would also work as just a mini game side mode in a different game]

Uncharted (lands):

An uncharted style modern 3rd person action adventure game. You could go full playstation exclusive and make it a blue tinted third person action game with themes of fatherhood where you can contextually climb on things. You and your bond are lost in the uncharted land and need to work together to survive. Gameplay is split between on the ground traversal/ exploration, puzzle solving, and tense flying sections. It'd be really cool if you could even play co-op with one player being the human and one player being the bat

Okay, now we've got to the unfaithful adaptations. These ones sure are underland games, and I bet they'd be super fun as well, but they definitely would be in poor taste for what is an anti-violence anti-war story. Suzanne would probably not approve...

Uncharted (Lands)... But you kill people in it:

Basically the idea from above, but with fighting mechanics and lots of combat encounters. Lots of in depth mechanics that utilize both bond's unique abilities and fighting styles. Utilize cool named combo moves like "the coiler". Stealth is interesting too, flying is fast but climbing on walls is quieter. Echo location tells you about the environment but reveals your location.... there's cool game design options there

Underland: Total War:

A 4x-ish grand strategy game in the vein of the total war series. Multiple different factions all with their own play-style, macro objectives, and available units. Engage in diplomacy, try to get unaligned factions to join your cause, and when war breaks out zoom in to intense RTS battles with hundreds of units that you can micro manage in massive subterranean three dimensional environments. Humans are great damage dealers but need light, Gnawers are deadly and easy to micro but have little in the way of tech and specialization, Flyers are mobile and great scouts but are fragile in a fight, Crawlers don't deal great damage but can hold a choke point like no one else... you get the picture. Don't even get me started on Rager Hero Units and prophecies. Play as Solovet and unlock new technology like "Fire arrows" and "The curse of the warmbloods", play as Gorger be sure to keep your overland prisoners healthy while they work on inventing guns for you, or play as Ripred and play both sides until the time is right to betray them both!

Dynasty Ragers:

Ripred tends to crack at 400 to 1? Wanna put that to the test? Play as everyone's favorite war criminal hearthrob and/or father figure as you slaughter hoards uppon hoards of enemies with his trademark spin attack in mindless hack-and-slash dynasty warriors style gameplay. Oh and of course we have to give him a dedicated emote/quip wheel. Is this what the Underland chronicles is about? Not at all! Would it be awesome? I mean yeah probably, but I'd feel really guilty playing it.

Yeah those were my ideas, thought I'd write them down. Feel free to add your own in the reblogs and the comments.

[galionne-vibin]

Look at that shramp!

Yeah so uh, @pleistocene-polina has been continuously sharing her Kamen Rider brainrot with me over the past few weeks and not to say that I've caught it too but.

Here's my Shin Kamen Rider OC, Monhanashako Augment 01 (She/They/It). Also known as Peacock Mantis Shrimp Aug. Or Shrimp Aug. Or The Freak.

It's a specialist in hand to hand combat and packs a (literal) lethal punch, which is why it's usually dispatched on assasination missions. Not like the rainbow coat makes them any good at stealth, anyway.

[amphiptere-art]

Random conversations i had on the Dandy's friends server that were important

Discussing a universe where Dandy kept Astro out of a loop. AU potential where Astro gets hurt planning trying to stop Dandy once he learns the truth.

Discussing how many toons technically, using magic.

I like to see Roger as a father dude, but I still do like ships with glisten.

First discussion about making puffle. The garnering around the fact that I want to make a dinosaur too much.

i made Puffle. Soon after blue made a better looking one. Everybody yammers about how cute they are. I discuss about their abilities.

play time with others. Had struggles distracting goob. And then I got jump scared by Teagan. Then nearly died to astro as i was handling another goob. Was dealing with a very mean cosmo. Atlas lived forever.

Small discussion about how some words blocked on roblox are very, very stupid.

There was a small talk about how all the dandy characters have different heads.

Talk about the Minecraft movie and the fact that we are disappointed. It's a comedy and doesn't look right.

Asked for some dinosaur prompts. And then Showed off some of my dinosaur drawings.

I only think Pebble is better because he can actually handle things like twisted Pebble and other really quick ones. His super speed makes it so he can go in a tight circle and usually keep everyone's attention. His downside is that his teammates have to be sneaky. They have to be at least somewhat good at the game. Goob is definitely a better team player. Pebble you need a team that knows what they're doing. But goob is so much better for a lobby experience. It's more fun and less professional.

Dude I finally figured out why some sprouts start distracting. They have a very similar stat thread to Tisha. Except they have a much higher stamina. They have four star walk, five star stamina. With a three-star stealth. With very low skill check and extraction speed of two stars each. If they aren't healing anyone they really do work well as a distractor.Basically unlike Tisha which acts better as a backup distractor. As she has high skill check. Sprout is literally a healer and distractor. His only downside is his stealth which is a similar problem Pebble already has.(edited)The only reason Pebble is still the best distractor is because of his bark.

I'm introduced to Pressure and had some spooky interactions with the imaginary friend. Following with my first interaction was who I was calling white face, but is actually painter. I also believed a squid was a clothesinger.

I Discuss the program that I use to actually play Dandy's world on the computer with a controller.

Got spam tagged And it did not see any of it. leading to a very silly scenario.

Concerns about racing art and either my new meds or anxiety.

They're struggled to figure out how to swim in Pressure. Mostly because of an eyeball stark that got me stuck.

What's more conversation about how lucky I get with Randos. Usually only having one or two bad ones.

Found some unique Rooms in pressure. Rome was a bunch of office like rooms and other was a giant circular room with a doors Tribute in the middle. Also, a day to the I was currently calling not Bracken. Also found an invisible cat.

Small silly situation where I put sunnyd in my cat mug. Promising to never do it again, because it looked off.

And some really cool old art of Dandy's characters. Particularly of goob and a dragon scraps.

Silly picture of shrimp in a cup.

Conversation about wanting to play Minecraft with people, but Struggling because of minecraft.

-------on 187 of all messages i had.

I never finished archiving. I am simply posting this because there's no point holding onto something that I will never return to.